Rose Red
by AnthyRose
Summary: Beautiful Shuichi. Placid Shuichi. But his past was anything BUT. And when a part of that past makes an unexpected reappearance, Shuichi finds himself struggling to restrain the baser aspects of the licentious Youko…and hold on to his humanity. KuramaOC
1. Prelude

Disclaimer: I do own any Yu Yu Hakusho character.

A/N: I was always fascinated with Youko Kurama and his alter Shuuichi Minamino. They're like two sides of a coin, the light and the dark. And yet, Shuuichi IS the Youko, so he in turn must still possess some of that darkness from his former demon self. What if it were there all the time, the personality of the Youko? What if he were keeping it suppressed in his guise as Shuuichi? Kurama has tremendous control and patience, he is, after all, the calmest of Team Urameshi, but what if something were to happen to break that perceived control? What follows could be a psychological disaster wrought with maturity, personal growth, and pain.

oOo

._..and the maiden ran through the forest. And the Kitsune saw her, and wanted her for himself._

They were being followed.

He could sense it plain as day, although the two humans seemed oblivious to it. Beside him, Hiei's eyes flicked briefly towards him, confirming his suspicions. _Yes_, he thought again, they were most definitely being followed. But by whom? And why?

He would wait, he decided. After all, Hiei did not appear to be concerned, and the humans Yuusuke and Kuwabara had yet to even _notice_. If that were any indication, then whatever it was probably wasn't all that much of a threat.

He smiled.

_Just a curious demon, perhaps_.

Most of the demons he'd met hitherto had been cruel; usually after some sort of power or out to inflict pain justbecause. Since becoming human, his perception of such things had greatly diminished, so he had no idea as of yet just what the motives of this particular demon were. And yet, his interest was piqued, so he resolved to wait a bit longer before acting. Patience, after all, was something of which he had great abundance.

"So what now?," Yuusuke wondered aloud, glaring at his surroundings.

"We've been walking around this stupid place for _hours!"_ Kuwabara whined. "When are we gonna get to the fighting?"

Hiei snorted. "Please. You of all people should be _thankful_ for the lack of fighting seeing as how _you'd_ be the one to _lose_."

Kuwabara glared. "Oh you're just _asking_ for it, short stuff-"

"Don't make me laugh."

Kuwabara's face turned an interesting shade of purple. "Ok, that's _it!_ _Spirit Swor_-"

Yuusuke shoved Kuwabara away, glaring daggers at the two.

"Come on, _children!_ I'm not here to baby-sit, dammit! Hiei, stop provoking Kuwabara! And Kuwabara, stop being so damned _stupid!_"

"Not an easy task for him," Hiei remarked dryly. Kuwabara stiffened.

"Why you-"

Kurama smiled. The two were intolerable. And as much as Hiei would deny it, the human got under his skin more than he'd like to admit. Unconsciously he glanced behind him, fingers going absently to his red hair.

"If you keep doing that it's going to realize we're aware of its presence," Hiei murmured quietly. Kurama jerked forward, eyes darting sharply to the shorter demon's. He hadn't realized he'd been glancing back so much.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"Hey, what are you two whispering about?" Kuwabara demanded. Hiei rolled his eyes, not even deigning to grace him with an answer. They were currently in Makai's castle, in search of the four Saint Beasts. They had - what seemed hours ago - barely managed to escape the Gate of Betrayal, and now they were wandering aimlessly down what appeared to be a never ending corridor. Tensions were high, and the added pressure of navigating the winding, maze-like castle was not helping.

"Are you guys talking about that person who's been following us?"

At this, both Hiei and Kurama stopped, staring at the teen in collective surprise. Yuusuke simply looked confused.

"Huh? What are you talking about? You mean we were being followed and _nobody_ told me?" He looked, Kurama noted, decidedly hurt. Hiei did not seem to notice, crossing his arms and eyeing Kuwabara with a measuring look.

"So. You actually had the brains to realize we were being trailed. I'm _mildly_ impressed."

Kuwabara beamed.

"I could sense the energy with my spirit power," he revealed, grinning with pride. But Hiei was not finished.

"Too bad you weren't smart enough to keep your big mouth _shut_." Kurama silently agreed. Already the figure was retreating back into the shadows, its presence fading. He'd hoped that they'd have some sort of element of surprise on their side, but apparently that wasn't going to happen, now.

"You just _shut up_, Hiei," Kuwabara retorted huffily, but Hiei was already gone, melting swiftly into the darkness. A moment later he returned, throwing a dark cloaked figure to the ground before them. The two humans looked on in shock as Hiei glared down.

"We'll have to kill it, of course" he exclaimed bluntly, drawing his sword and aiming it decisively down at the figure. "But first, why don't you tell us who you are? I'd like to have a name before you die."

"HEY! Hold_ on-_," Yuusuke started, but Kurama shook his head. He was curious about this as well. They were in the Makai, so obviously this person was a demon of sorts; perhaps even a servant of the Saint Beasts themselves. Except…something was...off. The figure, now that it was before him, seemed strangely familiar, alarmingly so, and he crossed his arms in an effort to calm himself.

With the blade of his sword, Hiei reached over and flung the hood back, revealing a mass of dark hair. Yuusuke and Kuwabara, who were facing the person, gaped in shock.

"It's a _GIRL!_," Kuwabara grinned widely. "Urameshi! You didn't tell me there were _GIRLS_ in this place," he accused, pointing a long, crooked finger in Yuusuke's face.

"That's cuz I didn't _know_ Einstein!," replied Yuusuke furiously. The figure's back was facing him, preventing Kurama from seeing the face. But his pulse began to quicken, and he felt himself grow strangely impatient.

Hiei rolled his eyes. "Shut _up,_ you freaks! It doesn't matter _what_ she is because in about ten seconds she'll be _dead_ anyway." He raised his sword, glaring down. "Now. Tell me, girl. Why were you following us?" The girl didn't answer, looking down at gloved hands before looking nervously up again at the humans.

"Which one of you is called Yuusuke?" The voice was reed thin, wistful; like wind through rushes. It was a voice Kurama _remembered_. A voice he still dreamt about late at night. A voice from days long past. He took half a step forward, standing just behind the girl, resisting the sudden urge to finger his hair.

"I'm him." Yuusuke eyed the girl suspiciously, his gelled hair shining like lacquered stone in the flickering lights of the torches that lined the walls. "Now how did you know my name?"

The girl gave a hesitant smile. "Everyone knows of the boy who defeated Randau," she said simply. She spoke as though it were some universal truth. And maybe, Kurama thought, it _was_. Yuusuke groaned. Beside him, Kuwabara grinned slyly.

"Y'know," he began conspiringly, leaning forward, "he defeated Hiei here, too."

Hiei was not amused.

"Good observation," the fire demon remarked, gazing steadily at the girl but talking to Kuwabara. "But had she said that, she'd have been _dead_." He turned his full attention back to the girl. "Not that I've changed my mind about killing you, that is." His ruby eyes narrowed, and suddenly he was all business. "Now. Why were you following us?" She ignored Hiei, gazing frantically now at Yuusuke.

"Urameshi-sama..." She spoke haltingly, as if she did not know how to place her thoughts into words. "I...you see...there is-" here she faltered, nervously wringing gloved hands before seemingly coming to a decision. Gathering herself, she lowered her forehead to the ground in an elegant, prostrating bow. "I wish," she said softly, "to make a request of you." Yuusuke's eyes widened in sudden comprehension.

"Oh no!" he shook his head. He could guess where _this_ was headed. "I'm not getting involved in _any more_ demon dealings if I can help it! And besides; I don't even _know_ you! How do I know you aren't some crazy demon chick sent by some psycho to kill me?" he crossed his arms defiantly, turning his head away in what could only be termed as a childish sulk.

The girl raised her head, wide-eyed. "No! I'm not- _please listen!_" She sounded so fraught that Yuusuke looked startled. Kuwabara blushed.

"Um…hey. If you want, I could help. I'm just as good as Urameshi, y'know. Probably _better_-" Yuusuke glared.

"You big _liar!_ You are _not!_"

"Well at least _I'm_ not the one making girls _cry!_"

"I _didn't!_ And anyways she's not a _girl_; she's a _demon_-" Kuwabara ignored him, kneeling down and leaning forward. Ever so slightly, the girl flinched away. Kuwabara did not appear to notice.

"Hey. Get off the floor. Urameshi ain't royalty." he reached out a hand as though to help her, but she jerked back, avoiding his touch. "So what's your name, anyway?" he asked kindly. She watched him silently for a moment, concentrating, it seemed, on some point above Kuwabara's head. After a moment her eyes dropped back to him, seemingly satisfied, and she gave him a hesitant smile before opening her mouth to answer. But someone beat her to it.

"Toriko."

He felt their eyes on him but kept his own glued to the figure on the floor. At his voice, her body gave the slightest tremble. And then she turned.

She looked exactly the same.

Well, _almost_.

It was impossible to be sure. The cloak was conveniently long and shapeless. Even her hands were hidden, wrapped in dark gloves. The only skin visible was that of her face, half obstructed by hair and hood. Even so, he could see the brilliance, the same moon pale flesh that had enthralled him that first time so long ago. It _glowed_. Even after half a century it still gave off the silvery iridescence of a full moon. Was this why she so carefully concealed her skin, he wondered, or was there another, more significant reason?

_The same_, he thought faintly, gazing down into that face. Was it possible for a person to change so little?

Except for the eyes.

They had most _certainly_ changed. He _remembered_ those eyes, timid and fearfully watching. Or _not_ watching. More often than not they had been screwed shut, face turned away in a medley of fear and tears and shame. It had been during these times that he'd always felt the desire to see them; violet blue, like the first ribbons of twilight in the sky.

Now those same eyes were again fixed on him- over a decade later. There was the usual fear and panic, the apprehension he'd so become accustomed to. But there was also something else that he didn't remember seeing there before, though it shouldn't have surprised him.

Bitterness.

Hatred.

Of _him_.

Of course, she couldn't have recognized him _physically_; he had changed too much for that. He was over a foot shorter, and both his voice and body were different. His hair was now a mop of shocking red instead of the moon tipped silver she remembered, his eyes a warm emerald green instead of the piercing ice gold of before. And his lips; they didn't hold the cruel twist he so often used to wear back then. They were gentler now, less severe, less...mocking. But no matter the form, there was no denying his grace, the way he carried himself so calmly. So _precisely_.

She remembered that preciseness, he knew. Remembered his coldness, his cruelty. And he couldn't stop the faint heat that spread through him at the thought. Couldn't stop the look of darkened desire that came into his eyes. Because he remembered, too.

At the very edges of his mind, he felt the Youko stir.

_It wasn't me_, he thought, suddenly fervent. It _wasn't_. Not _really_. He wasn't the same person. He was Shuuichi Minamino, 16 year old model human. He was _nice; _every inch the polite, genteel, safe boy. _Compassionate_. _Empathetic_. Something learned in the 16 years he'd spent as a human. He was, at present, an acting good guy, and good guys didn't do the things he'd done. Good guys didn't feel the stirrings of desire to do those things again. But here, now, somewhere deep within him, he could feel the essence of his demon uncoiling. He could feel the Youko.

And at that moment, he feared it would break free.

They stood like that for what seemed like an eternity; he staring calmly into her eyes, she trapped in his gaze like a deer caught in headlights. But then she broke free, jumping clumsily to her feet and backing away. Beside him, Hiei raised a speculative brow. "I take it you two know each other." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. She's my_-_ I mean, we're old acquaintances, you see." Kurama smiled, looking apologetic when she winced. He'd caught himself before the words left his lips, the words he'd meant to say, words he'd _almost_ said. But unspoken they hung between them as loud as if he'd uttered them anyway.

_She's my pet._

Her eyes went wide, and he knew she was remembering as well, though her memories were considerably less pleasant. It was…most unfortunate, he thought grimly, and he was truly sorry for the suffering he'd caused, for the suffering she was no doubt still going through. Back then he'd been a great displeasure to _anyone_ who crossed his path or captured his attention, and unfortunately for her, she'd done both.

He forgot about Yuusuke then; forgot about Hiei and Kuwabara, forgot about the Saint Beasts and the mission. Forgot about everything except the delicate retreating figure before him.

And once again he became the Youko.

_Are you walking away from me, little one?_

She froze.

He immediately clamped shut his mind. _That has never happened before._ He had a brief moment to wonder at this. Before him, just as suddenly, she was straightening, apparently deciding to ignore him. Perhaps she thought she'd imagined it. Or perhaps, he mused watching her, more likely, she had decided to see him through this new form. His _human_ form, this child's body with its effeminate limbs and androgynous build. There was no way to accurately gauge his strength and abilities as he was now. He felt himself grow faintly amused. Appearances were most definitely deceiving, something of which she had still obviously yet to learn. But then, she was still a child after all - at least in demon standings.

He was suddenly surprised. Surprised at the fact that, even after all this time she could still manage to amuse him.

"Hey! Earth to Kurama…you there?," he was jolted back to reality by the annoyed voice of Yuusuke, who was giving him a look. He shot the boy a bemused glance, sliding once again into the role of Shuuichi Minamino.

"Of course. We should get going." And he turned, hands in his pockets, eyes lowered with his trademark enigmatic half-smile on his face. Outwardly, he looked for all the world completely indifferent to the girl's arrival. But inside he was reeling. What possible reason could she have for seeking out Yuusuke Urameshi of all people? It was obvious she hadn't expected to see him here. Probably she hadn't expected to see him ever again.

_Calm down, Kurama._

It wouldn't do to get worked up about it. Besides, she was never good at keeping secrets; she'd slip up eventually and all would be—

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden gruff laugh. Immediately all four boys snapped to attention.

"You've come _this_ far," it said, and the texture of its voice reminded Kurama of a barren wasteland.

"There is a door to your left. Enter it!" The voice went silent, its dry laughter echoing through the long corridors.

"Okay this is _seriously_ freakin' me out!," Kuwabara exclaimed nervously. Yuusuke nodded, for once without a comeback. Behind them, a ways off, the girl stood by uncertainly. Hiei snorted, crossed his arms and impassively stepped through the door. Kurama and Yuusuke followed, and after a moment Kuwabara sauntered after them, looking about nervously.

The room was dark; Kurama could barely make out his surroundings with his human eyes. The lone torch on the wall helped little; what minimal light it gave off seemed to be completely consumed by the darkness around it. Stepping forward, he wrinkled his nose at the decaying odor that laced the room.

"Greetings." The voice spoke suddenly. The same voice they'd heard before. That deep gravely bass that rumbled like thunder over the desert.

"Where the hell _are_ you?" Yuusuke shouted, looking around unsuccessfully. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. The voice sounded amused, laughing softly. Kurama's ears picked up the shuffling of heavy feet against stone. And then he saw it.

_Monster_. There was no other way to describe it. He'd seen worse things by far, but never had he seen this particular _type_ of creature. It was made entirely of rock as far as he could tell, which would explain why its voice sounded the way that it did. Behind him, he could hear the shock of the others.

The thing laughed, apparently enjoying their reactions.

"I am Genbu," it stated. "Over there is the entrance to the Saint Beast's lair. You can either go through it, or be dragged there once I've _killed_ you!

Kuwabara quaked.

"H-he's a _rock_ Urameshi! How are we supposed to fight a _rock?_" Yuusuke did not respond, staring mouth agape at the creature before them. Here Kurama smiled, stepping forward with careful deliberate steps, and to the shock of them all, spoke four words:

"I will fight him."

oOo

Okay. This is the re-edited version, effective 10-20-09. Not much has changed. I've left the overall story completely intact, but corrected spelling and grammatical issues as well as replaced/omitted awkward wording.


	2. Dei Gratia

_A beggar am I; and a thief._

oOo

The demon crouched low, ears flat against its head, moving stealthily through the undergrowth. The gold encrusted jade held between its teeth was momentarily forgotten in favor of this latest disturbance.

_Bird_, the demon thought, sniffing the air, because there was the faintest scent of wind and rain and twilight, of the upper world. Bird demons were notoriously hard to kill. They usually traveled in flocks and were deceptively clever. An irritated growl rose within its throat, but the demon swallowed it down. It could not afford a fight right now, especially since it had no idea if it were being pursued. It cast suspicious eyes behind itself, straining its ears, but heard nothing save for the droning buzz of insects and the whisper of a breeze. Its jaws tightened around the bauble, tails swishing anxiously behind it.

The bird was coming.

He could make out the unmistakable sound of footsteps– bare feet— padding along grass, the soft gasp of breath; the bird was making no effort to conceal itself. If he attacked, there would be a spike in his energy, and who knew how many would be able to track him from that brief surge?

This time the demon _did_ growl, a low rumble of anger and frustration, ice gold eyes flashing. _He would rip out their throat. Lap up their blood. Drag their carcass back to feed his plants—_

He went suddenly very still.

Whatever he had expected to see, whatever he might have imagined, it had not been this. Not this woman-child, bounding alone through the woods. She ran right past him, completely oblivious, and so close that the tail of her kimono actually brushed against his paws and nose.

The demon jerked back as if stung. The bauble fell from his jaws—

Kurama woke with a cry, clutching his temple.

His head was spinning, and the thin pajamas he wore were clammy against his damp skin. He took a few measured breaths in an attempt to stem the sudden bout of nausea that rose within him.

This was the third night in a row _it_ had happened.

It was getting harder to force himself awake, and each night he found himself falling deeper into the memory, remembering it. _Reliving it_. He closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath through his nose, trying to will away the blooming heat in his belly.

_The merger is secure_.

He could be content in that knowledge, at least. The Youko did not exist as it once had. Its essence was too entwined within that of Shuuichi Minamino's. As powerful as it was, it could not separate from him, willingly or otherwise.

_But it could do other things. _

It could twist him, seduce him_, bend_ him until its will became his own, until he wanted what _it_ wanted.

He exhaled, opening glassy eyes and staring unseeing into the shadowed room. If there were answers in the darkness, they did not come to him.

O

"Tell me again about this girl," Koenma asked a few days later, chubby fingers steepled thoughtfully beneath his chin. Botan had confided in Yuusuke that the young Lord did it in an effort to look more distinguished. To Yuusuke, however, it just made him look even _more_ like a baby.

The teen shrugged, hands shoved stiffly into his pockets. Not that he wasn't _grateful_ to the kid for giving him a few days rest before reporting in, but Yuusuke was in a hurry and did not like repeating himself. "I told you everything I know! She was just…a girl. Some demon chick looking for me. She seemed harmless." He shrugged again. "And after we saw Genbu she disappeared anyway, so what's the big deal?"

Koenma gave him a scathing look. "I hardly think a 'demon chick', as you say, is as harmless as she appears. Demons are masters of subterfuge, Yuusuke. _You_ of all people should know this! The simple fact that she was in Makai's castle in the first place tells us she was either working for the Saint Beasts or…" he tapered off, brow furrowing. After a moment, Botan stepped forward.

"Um…Yuusuke," she began hesitantly, "Can you describe her again? In a little more detail, this time?" he groaned, shooting her an aggravated look.

"But I already _did!_ Like, _twice!_ What more do you want me to say? I'm hungry! I haven't eaten yet today, y'know. You spirit people might not have to eat, but I don't exactly have that luxu—"

"Yuusuke!"

He sighed. "Alright, alright_ fine_. Geez. Um, let's see." His face screwed in exaggerated concentration. "She was…a girl. Black hair. Her skin was all glow-y and stuff." he made little wiggling motions with his hands. "Like…like… I don't know. Like, glowy. Kinda like a flashlight or something, except…not. Y'know?"

"Your powers of observation are _astounding_," Koenma deadpanned.

Yuusuke glared. "Look. Kuwabara would probably know better than I would, okay? He was right up in her face! And he could actually _sense_ her." He scowled, visibly perturbed by the fact that he hadn't noticed her presence, yet _Kuwabara_ of all people, had.

"Did she have any markings?," Koenma pressed. "Any distinguishing features? Horns? A tail, maybe?"

The boy shrugged, looking distractedly around the room. "She just looked like some weird glowing girl to me. She didn't have any markings that I could see, but they might have been under her cloths or somethin'…_OH!_" his head shot up. Koenma, surprised, jerked back, nearly spilling from his chair.

"I almost forgot," Yuusuke added, not seeming to notice. "Kurama seemed to know her. Why don't you ask him?" he went back to randomly studying the room, eyes finally settling on Koenma's desk.

"…what?"

"Yeah," he said, examining what looked to be an elaborate Chinese paper weight. The toddler snatched it away.

"You failed to mention this the _first_ time you explained!"

"_Like I said!_ YOU try giving a report when you're half starved!" He turned away, lip jutted out in a childish pout. Koenma shut his eyes, sighing. When the teen got like this he tried all his patience. Perhaps he really _should_ have spoken with Kuwabara. At least the redhead was _marginally_ more polite.

"Yuusuke." Koenma tried again, talking slower. "I don't think you realize the sort of situation this could turn into. Your 'harmless demon chick' could be any number of things. A scout sent to determine your power. A distraction. It's also entirely possible that this girl wasn't a demon at all. There are other things out there that you've never…" He paused, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Tell me more about Kurama. How did he act?"

Yuusuke shrugged again, and Koenma had to bite back the urge to strangle the boy.

"I dunno. It's not like I know the guy all that well. I mean, he acted like he normally does. He was all like, 'yeah, we used to know each other' and then he started fighting Genbu, and when we turned around again she was gone." Koenma put a chubby hand to his temple, sucking furiously on his pacifier, while Botan frowned.

"He didn't mention _how_ they knew each other?," she wondered aloud. "He didn't react other than that?"

"It's hardly surprising." Koenma supplied, stamping the papers a random ogre had brought up. "He's under parole, isn't he? Why would he risk getting involved with one of his demon associates so soon?" Yuusuke stopped his perusal of the room, staring at the Child.

"I don't think it was like that," he said thoughtfully.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, she seemed really surprised to see him, and Kuwabara told me later that it looked like she was afraid of him."

"Afraid?"

The teen gave a one shouldered shrug, digging in his pockets, no doubt searching for a cigarette. "It's probably just Kuwabara being Kuwabara. He likes to dramatize shit, y'know." Koenma bristled at the casual use of the profanity, but didn't comment. "He said she reminded him of his kitten." He paused, apparently resigned to the fact that his pockets were empty before fixing Koenma with a stare.

"His kitten?" Botan asked, looking confused. Yuusuke nodded absently.

"Yeah, it seemed pretty weird to me. He acts like the thing is his baby. I mean, you shoulda seen the way he freaked out when those guys were about to torture it—"

"_Yuusuke!_"

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay. _Anyway_ he says when he first got the thing it was all timid and scared. Apparently it was some stray he found. It was so young it would have died, but the big softy ended up feeding it from a medicine dropper or something…"

He gave a braying laugh.

"That idiot. Can you believe he actually got up every four hours with the thing? Like it was really his kid or something…" he trailed off, face suddenly serious. "Say, you think maybe that demon chick was a cat?"

Koenma huffed, rising from his desk and pulling himself to his full height—all of 22 inches. "Yuusuke, you're dismissed. Botan, go find Kuwabara. Maybe _he_ can prove more helpful." Yuusuke did a double take, backing into a passing ogre and sending stacks of papers flying.

"Wait—what? _WHY?_ I'm just as good as that idiot!" He appeared to have forgotten that he himself had suggested it not even ten minutes earlier.

"Yuusuke," the toddler began, already floating away, "you had no trouble recounting the Saint Beasts and the corresponding battles— in _explicitly_ gory detail I might add— and yet describing a simple girl seems to be outside the range of your abilities—"

"_HEY—!"_ while Yuusuke went off on a tangent, Botan fell into step beside the retreating lord, expression perplexed.

"Lord Koenma," she began hesitantly. He glanced over, cherubic face darkened into a scowl, clearly annoyed with the still rambling Yuusuke.

"What exactly _is_ the big deal? Yuusuke can be a bit…_misguided_ at times, but he's not exactly a bad judge of character. And isn't there a simpler solution? Why not just ask Kurama himself? He's been very cooperative thus far and…" the words died in her throat. It had only been a brief moment, an _eye blink_ that his gaze had flicked over to her own, but she was suddenly very much aware of whom she was questioning. This wasn't the harried junior who spent his days signing forms and overseeing workflow, the one who whined and complained and bossed and nettled endlessly. This was Enma Jr., the Prince, and right now his expression was one of very obvious displeasure.

"Find Kuwabara," he said again, and she could only nod numbly, gripping her oar so tightly that her knuckles hurt.

This time when he floated away, she did not follow.

O

Chapter two. After seven long years. I very much hope it was worth the wait. I agonized over this piece, writing and rewriting about six different versions before settling on this, which is actually a mesh of two separate versions. The first few drafts of this chapter included the Genbu fight, but after going over them, I decided to scrap it. It holds no real relevance to the plot, and besides that, I had no desire to write, (just as I'm sure you all have no desire to _read_) a play by play description of REHASH. Next chapter is when we get into the meat of the story.

Thanks to all the reviewers for their support, as well as the lovely PM's and emails. They were all very encouraging, (and quite awe inspiring). **JC^**, **ladyDarkness**, **Cytrink Dareth**, **cnegurochka** , **Midnight Scribbler**, **Jordan**, **din,** **ME!**, **Ashes of Butterflies** , **angle**, **jerkbound** **27**, **darksaphire**, **Payne N. Uranus**, **kahuffstix**, **Losaye Maiden**, Especially the last 4 reviewers:

**Kuramastrass**, whose 2008 review served to put this fic back on my radar. I'd always intended to continue, but it wasn't high on my priority list. Her review had me looking at it again. (reviews really DO inspire)

**JennyJenny8675309**, whose enthusiastic and honest review recently had me going back and re-editing the first chap, since it was abound with spelling mistakes galore.

**Cantata**, whose review was so _enthusiastic_ and _uplifting_ and _encouraging_ and just pure _awesome_, that I eagerly got off my bum and began working like mad to finish this chapter, with more vigor than prior.

And **Maye**, whose sweet and honest review recently proved to me, (in addition to **Cantata**'s review) that there are indeed still people out there who, despite me not having updated since '02, read this thing.


	3. Waiting

_The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins._

O

It was _hot_, for spring.

Muggy and uncomfortable. There was a haze over everything, distorted wisps that lingered in the air like tendrils of smoke.

She swiped a thin hand across her forehead, shrugging the jacket more securely around her shoulders. It was hot…but perhaps this had more to do with her attire than the actual temperature. The people around her— salarymen rushing off to catch trains, students milling about with friends, harried mothers making last minute trips downtown for milk…her eyes went glassy at that last sight— did not seem particularly bothered by the heat.

She closed her eyes, griping the rubber ball in her hands.

She was too easily distracted. It had always been her greatest weakness.

Through the drone of crowds and traffic she could not even hear her whispered words, but even mouthing them gave her strength. She opened her eyes, gazing between the bodies around her in grim determination.

He was still there, hair slicked back away from his forehead, the same as it had been in the demon city. His cloths were the same too, the same bottle green blazer and slacks, the same scowling, sullen expression that appeared to be his trademark. There was a cigarette hanging from his lips, and his dark eyes lazily scanned the crowd—

She looked away, heart pounding.

_Had he seen…?_

Beneath her cloths, the sutras she'd taped to her skin prickled. She resisted the urge to scratch, instead taking a deep breath, willing herself to calm before chancing another look across the street.

He was (thankfully) looking away, idly blowing smoke rings into the air. Just…standing there. Was he waiting for someone? She felt herself relax.

It was easier like this, when he wasn't facing her. His gaze was too sharp, and she wondered, not for the first time that day, if he was aware of her. …if he _was, _he wasn't letting on, but even so, she'd kept her distance, watching between four lanes of traffic and the bodies that lined the streets and curbs. The brief snapshots of his life were strangely telling:

_A school aged boy leaning against the wall of a building, languidly watching the world go by through dark, hooded eyes._

_Walking, shoulders hunched, with no apparent destination in mind. _

_Passing, uninhibited, through the seedier parts of the city to play video poker…_

She had not thought, initially, that things would be this complicated. Things were not _supposed_ to be this complicated. But nothing was the way it was supposed to be. _Yuusuke_ was not what he was supposed to be. And now, with the sudden reappearance of_—_

She drew a shaky breath, tasting diesel and iron on the air, cradling the ball to her chest before looking up again for Yuusuke's figure.

He wasn't there.

_He wasn't there. _She panicked, spinning around, bumping into disgruntled pedestrians, frantically searching between bodies. She could not differate between the feel of humans, and with this many around it was impossible to—

_There_.

A flash of green. Between clusters of people she could just make out his figure lounging against a street lamp. His back was to her, head cocked indolently to the side. She released the breath she'd been holding, gripping the ball, shoulders sagging. Her back had began to ache, and she rolled her shoulders absently, keeping her eyes glued to the figure of the boy.

The tilt of his body suggested he was speaking with someone, but between the cars and crowds this was difficult to discern. It was a passing thought, and mostly irrelevant, she decided, biting her lip. She had been avoiding it so far today— partly to conserve strength, and partly for reasons she did not wish to examine too closely— but after such a scare, putting it off any longer seemed an option she could not afford. She looked away from his slouching form, concentrating instead on the area above his head.

There was nothing, still.

Just as there had been nothing over him that day in the demon city.

She had made her excuses. Thought up every possible scenario that would explain such a thing. But here, now, in broad daylight, away from the distractions of demons and danger and surrounded by humans, there was nothing she could think of that would cause such an absence as this.

_This_ _was_ _not_ _supposed_ _to_ _happen_. This was…

…what was she supposed to _do_? She had not been prepared to deal with such a variance of norm. It was not supposed to be this way, was it? She had never run across such a thing! She pushed fingers to her temple, scattering bangs before narrowing her eyes, pushing every fiber of effort she had into her gaze. She could not fail. She had to make absolutely _certain_…

If not for the fact that, from her peripheral vision, she could make out the brilliant blob of color hanging over everyone in her line of sight, she might have thought she'd done it wrong, that perhaps she wasn't properly concentrating. As it was, she was probably concentrating _too_ hard, because Yuusuke was suddenly straightening, glancing suspiciously over his shoulder—

And she got a clear view of who he was talking to.

The shock of claret hair, something like fresh blood, was enough to turn her stomach.

She turned and ran.

She ran until her lungs burned, clutching the ball to her chest like a life jacket. She couldn't breathe. Colors bled and swam till she could no longer make sense of them all, and in her panicked state she could not turn them off. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to stop—

Stop.

_Stop!_

The feel of humans danced across her psyche, bold and salient.

_She could not sense him. _

Just as she hadn't been able to sense him in the demon city.

She swayed, felt something like a tidal wave build within her.

_She could not sense him. _

He had been _right across the street _and she hadn't felt _anything—_

Her breath came in raspy sobs. Her throat burned. Her eyes burned. The _sutras_ were burning—

Her eyes popped open.

The fingers that gripped the ball were paper pale, and against the shadows of the afternoon she thought she saw the faintest glow. She must get a hold of herself. She was making a scene, drawing unnecessary attention, and even in human society that was never a good thing. She kept her gaze fixed on her fingers, ignoring the blaring colors that danced just at the edges of her eyes, and tried to think.

He had not seen.

He _couldn't_ have seen. There were too many people around. _There was no way_—

She felt something - sweat or tears- drip down the tip of her chin. She was okay. She was safe. She was _fine_. She would _be_ fine. He would not find her. He wouldn't catch her again. She wasn't like she used to be. And anyway…_anyway,_ by now she was a good- she took a gulping breath -_a_ _good_ _distance_ _away_ and…

…and she had absolutely no idea where he was, she realized. He could be _anywhere_ and she'd never know, had no way of feeling him out. She could walk right into him on the _street_—

She threw an anxious look around, immediately regretting it as her vision kaleidoscoped. Trembling, she shut her eyes. The crowds that had once camouflaged her were now the enemy. It was impossible to tell where he might be…_who_ he might be.

_Could he shape shift?_

Twice now she'd seen him as a red-haired youth. It was not an ability she'd known the demon to possess, but even more frightening was the fact that he felt _completely human, _was _indistinguishable _from them_— _

Did Yuusuke know what he was?

It had been nearly two months since she'd followed Yuusuke into the demon city. Miraculously, she'd seen no sign of the demon since then, and as the weeks passed, when he _still_ had not appeared, she'd begun to think…to _hope_ that maybe he _wouldn't_; that maybe he had lost interest. Or maybe he just didn't know where she was. She had learned a few things about concealment over the years, had gotten better at not being seen—

_Or maybe_, that frightful part of her interjected, _it was none of these reasons_. Maybe the demon was simply letting her_ think _she had escaped. He had _let_ her slip away in the demon city because he had known he'd be able to find her later. At his leisure.

Uninterrupted.

She pressed knuckles to her lips, muffling the scream that threatened to rise up.

_It wasn't true_.

It wasn't true because if it _was_, it would not have taken sixteen years for their paths to cross again. He was…meticulous in his dealings. The first and only time she'd run away, he'd—

She felt the temperature shift, felt the kiss of a sulfur laced breeze as a vehicle droned past, and she realized that in her distraction she had wandered dangerously close to the curb.

_He had not seen her_, she thought again_. _He had_ not. _She had only to repeat the words and they would come true. Say them with_ conviction!_, she thought fiercely.

He had not seen.

He had _not_ seen.

If she said it enough, she might even come to believe it.

She ducked into the very next store she came to, swinging open the glass doors with perhaps a little too much force. The muffled giggles to her left had her immediately aware of the attention her behavior was garnering, of how she must appear; a thin, sallow girl, wild eyed and windblown, clutching a child's toy to her chest. She looked close enough like a human youth that her actions could _hopefully _be brushed off as immaturity. Still, it wouldn't do to take chances, so she forced her steps to slow, forced the death grip she had on the ball to loosen, and concentrated instead on keeping her eyes focused, on _not_ wincing at the lingering onslaught of colors, on _not_ bumping into anything in the small store.

The aisles were narrow. She had to squeeze by what she guessed was the clerk, a wiry man dressed in an oversized vest holding a broom, who seemed more interested in watching the girls beside the door than sweeping. He did not even glance her way as she slipped past.

In all she counted eight people; the three giggling girls hovering near the door, the clerk, and four others she couldn't see from her current position. But the colors that flickered above the aisles did not match the demon's, and she felt some of the tension leave her.

He was not here.

She could have cried in relief. She wanted to collapse on the floor and recite a hundred mantras in gratitude. Instead, she buried her face into the ball and tried to piece together her nerves. Her nose was running terribly and her vision like a prism, but away from the rush of people, the colors had finally begun to fade, and she felt the first signs of fatigue trickling through. She would stay here for a bit, perhaps thirty minutes or so. _Surely_ by then the demon would be gone from the area. He had never been one to stay in one place for very long.

She did not like crowds. There were too many people, too many _energies_ to sift through at once. On the rare occasions she went out, her excursions had always been in brief, small doses, and never _this_ stressful...

She cast anxious eyes towards the glass doors, nearly dropping the ball when a pair of dark brown eyes stared back. Panicked, she looked away, only to glance nervously back.

One of the girls was watching her.

Just a girl, she told herself. _Just a normal girl_. A normal _human_ girl. With as much casualty as she could muster, she forced herself to turn away, staring unseeing at the books that lined the aisles, trying to remember if she had accidentally touched anyone upon entering. She couldn't remember. She didn't _think_ she had. The sleeves of her jacket reached well below her wrists, preventing such a thing. The only visible skin was her face and neck—

-or maybe that was it. Maybe the girl was just staring at her clothes…which _were_ admittedly _odd_ in such weather. A surreptitious glance between lashes proved the girl had already lost interest, was back to chatting with her companions.

She exhaled.

It wasn't the end, she knew. If she were going to keep going out like this— and she would _have_ to, if she wanted to get to Yuusuke— she would have to try to fit in, attract as little attention as possible. Researching the clothing of this decade had not been something she'd considered. …not that she'd be going out much anyway, what with the_ demon _lurking about_—_

She pressed the ball to her chest. The ache in her back grew into a dull throb.

There was music playing overhead; something soft and inconsequential, but she found herself listening regardless, reluctantly lulled and noticing for the first time the _type_ of books around her. _Not for reading_, she guessed, wiping her dripping nose with the back of her sleeve, because most of them bore the strange little symbols that denoted music. She wondered which of the symbols, if any, were used in the song playing. It sounded terribly complicated in some parts—

"It's lovely, isn't it?" a voice behind her remarked, and she felt herself start. She hadn't felt—

Jerking around, she came face to face with a puce colored uniform. A student.

Who had claret hair.

Her body went still as stone.

"Hello," said the demon very softly.

Her vision blanked. She felt the blood drain from her face. Felt the fragile calm she'd built crumble and break away**. **She was going to faint. She could already feel her mind slipping—

"I'm sorry," the demon murmured. His breath stirred her hair as he spoke. "You left me little choice, you understand."

He moved then, stepping deliberately closer, and with a sob she staggered back. He was on her again before she could recover, close enough that his arm actually _grazed her shoulder_, close enough that a lock of blood red hair brushed against her cheek. She jerked away, flailing, nearly knocking into a cassette display. The aisles were too narrow to attempt to go around him, and she could not predict what he'd do if she tried. The only way to go was back.

Always back!

Too late she realized what he was doing, that his feints had an actual purpose. _Everything_ _he did had a purpose_. He was herding her, but by the time she realized this she was already stumbling through the doorway of the dimly lit stockroom.

He stopped several paces in, but she continued moving, past crates and boxes and dusty instruments, till her back hit a wall and she could move no more.

The seconds ticked by.

_Horrible_, _numbing_ seconds where her mind refused to work and her limbs felt locked in place. _What_, she wondered? _What happens now_? Eyes darted around, looking _anywhere_ but him—

_No! No,_ she must keep him in her sights above all else. There was no Yuusuke around this time to slay the demon—

It struck her suddenly that perhaps he had been this close all along, trailing her as she had trailed Yuusuke today. Perhaps even longer than _that_. How many weeks_…months _had gone by with her blissfully unaware of his presence? How many times had she passed him on the street? _How many times had he gotten this close without her realizing...?_

Her breath turned gasping.

"Yoritsune Matsudaira_,__Mouvements circulaires_," he said. She caught the glint of teeth as he spoke. Smooth. Flat. Like a human's.

"…what you were listening to," he clarified slowly.

She could not think. Fingers clawed into the wall behind her. She felt her nails bend but there was no pain. She almost wished there was. It would give her something to focus on, an anchor to ground herself with. Less than two meters away, the demon watched through hooded, speculative eyes. He was holding a case, the leather satchels students carried with them to school. In the dim light of the room, his hair shone red as a sunset.

"I'd wondered what became of you," he murmured. "Being trapped there all alone… you must have thought I'd abandoned you."

Green eyes studied her face.

"Or perhaps you thought me dead." He seemed vaguely amused by this. Lips curled up into a phantom smile that had her breath hitching violently, had her knees colliding with the floor.

The smile disappeared.

"Toriko," he called.

It was everything and nothing all at once. It was a summons. It was a chide. It was pain and sorrow and anger and desire and _it was not her name_.

The demon's brow furrowed.

"Yes," he said suddenly, softly, as though he'd heard her thoughts. Or perhaps he'd read them in her face. He had always been good at reading faces. "But you've never _given_ me your name, I'm afraid." She could not tell if he was speaking frankly or if he'd meant it as a reprimand.

Ultimately, it did not matter.

Her fingers clawed but the ball was gone. Lost somewhere in the confusion, no doubt, but she did not remember dropping it. She felt naked without it; patently lost, and she gripped the cuffs of her oversized jacket, breathing through clenched teeth. She could smell the memory of blood on the air, _thick and heady_—

"I am called Shuuichi."

His voice was melodic and even, like the undisturbed surface of a lake. She kept her eyes lowered, forced herself to focus on his feet. To _think_. It was impossible to concentrate with him this close, and in truth, trying to outthink him was, perhaps in itself, an impossibility. But the freedom of the past sixteen years, even tainted as they were, and the thought of losing it, of going back to _before_—

She felt something rise within her— more sob than laugh, and she rose shakily to her feet, sliding her body against the wall. Her head felt too heavy for her shoulders, and the shadows around the room seemed to alternately spin and blur.

She could not fight him.

She could not fight him because she had already tried that once _and_—

She shook her head, trying to shake the sudden lethargy that had settled over her, staring again at his feet. His feet, clad in burnished shoes black as a beetle's shell. Shoes that were currently lifting, stepping forward—

She jerked, eyes lifting frantically to his face.

There was a glint of satisfaction there, and she realized belatedly, that, _once_ _again_ he had been herding her. That the modicum of control she had, that even the _spontaneity_ of her responses- _was just an illusion_. How many of her actions in the past had he orchestrated? How many of her reactions had been genuine?

The demon watched her, unblinking. Taking stock, she thought bitterly.

_Or waiting_, something whispered in her head. He looked like he was waiting for something, and the sudden thought made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. But she found herself similarly studying him, warily mapping out the differences to the face in her memories.

Most obvious was the hair. Claret, as though he'd dipped the silver locks in a pool of blood, but there were other changes, too. Rounded features. An undefined jaw. A slimmer build. Back in the demon city she had not paid much attention to his appearance. He had called her _that name_, and he had spoken, and she'd _known_ him. The package was wrapped differently but its core was unchanged. Now as she looked at him, the significance of this new appearance hit her like a sack of bricks.

He looked like a human child. All softness and circles, and weakly, distantly, she acknowledged that it was the perfect disguise. How easily could he slip through human society looking like this, plundering and pillaging? The visage he wore was decidedly…_unassuming_.

And he was all the more frightening because of it.

She took a shuddering breath through her mouth and felt her mind fuzz. At the same time she realized that something was horribly, _horribly_ wrong. The air tasted sweet, like crushed honeysuckles on ice, and somehow the demon's blurred form was closer. _Too_ _close_. A mere arms length away.

_Waiting_. _He had been waiting_.

She opened her mouth- perhaps to scream – but what came out was a strangled grunt. The smile he gave her was almost kind.

"It's alright. Just a mild sedative. It will help calm you down."

She tried not to think of what he might mean.

She could not fight him, she thought again.

_She could not fight him because she could not win._

But she would try.

Later, she would wonder if this too had been a calculated move on his part, if he had perhaps predicted her reaction beforehand. She struck; palm flat, elbow bent, just like the monks who practiced _kata_ before morning prayer. Her limbs were slow and awkward; lifting her arm was like wading through frozen tofu- and she could already tell that she'd completely gotten the angle wrong, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter the strength or the force behind it, anyway.

_Bare skin, _she thought gritting her teeth, aiming for his face. She had only to touch _bare_ _skin_—

There was a smack as her hand made contact, along with the familiar tingle that always accompanied touch. The quick pant of breath—

And then there were warm fingers threading with her own, and she was staring at the appendage in muted, distorted horror. _He was _touching_ her._

_He was _touching_ her and he did not seem— _

The demon watched too, gazing at their entwined hands as though seeing them for the first time. Something passed over his face, a look too quick to properly decipher. The fingers tightened. She winced; then cried out when the pressure increased.

"I remember this…" the demon murmured. He moved forward, till his body was flush against hers, till her back was, once again, pressed into the wall. His breath was warm against her neck, and green eyes weighted with red lashes locked with her own.

She felt a cold sort of dread form in the pit of her stomach.

Because she remembered it, too.

O

A/N: This chapter gave me hell. _Literally_. I had not intended to take this long to update, but I guess 6 _months_ is better than the previous 8 _years_. Believe it or not, it actually took all of 6 months to put together these eight pages. This chapter went through so many rewrites and edits that it's not even funny. (I wrote about five different versions) The first two versions of this chapter were actually from Kurama's POV. But I decided it would ultimately work better from an alternate viewpoint. **laughs nervously**

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed thus far, added me to their favorites and or alerts, and who've pm'd me. The encouragement has really been great, and I appreciate you guys sticking with this for so long. ^^ I have UNDYING respect for those authors who can crank out quality chapters in a weeks time.

**Cantata, Kai G. Tayuki, Maye, Kuramastrass, ****Kaori Minamino****, THC, Eunnie, ****Kuro Neko to Kuro Bara****, Ride with the Wind, ChibiLady, Kaluria**. THANK YOU SO MUCH.


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